The Good Son
by A. Ruth Howe
Summary: Treize and Zechs spend an afternoon together at Lake Victoria. Note: NOT a romance. Just a sketch.


The Good Son

Summer at Victoria was so bloody hot, like the third level of hell. Yellow days blended into nights that never completely darkened. Nothing really cooled, ever. When it did, it still was uncomfortable. If they weren't dying of heat they were freezing their nuts off on cloudless nights that preserved no heat. But today, they were dreaming of those frigid evenings, begging for rain or a magical avalanche to descend on them and end the hot torment. It was required for them to keep their uniforms on and clasped at the neck according to regulation. Sweat beaded on brows and pooled in all the articulation spots, staining the fabric and making the boys ripe.

It was Sunday afternoon, the closest thing to free time they could come by. The two friends met up by Meat Hill, the student dining hall. Treize exchanged latrine duty with one of the base's perimeter guards to let them pass. When the guard on the wall saw them waiting together by Meat Hill, he dropped his rifle purposely, giving them the signal that it was safe to pass. They didn't wait, but exploded in a burst of athletic haste, crossing underneath the wall's archway, dashing through the gate and racing toward the savannah.

Zechs was in the lead. He was a mere inch taller than Treize but had a passion for running that Treize couldn't match. However, Treize was older with an adult's muscle to support him. Soon it was a race toward the lake on the edge of the grassland. They pulled off their jackets as they ran, grasping the tight cloth in their large hands as it flapped at their sides. Their breaths came louder and louder and their faces blossomed red like the poppies they trampled. The jackets acted like parachutes slowing them down and they let them fly away in the golden tall grass like two black birds. Treize was pulling ahead, pulling the buttons off his white collar shirt that was soaked with sweat. Zechs followed suit, letting buttons rain on the ground, peeling the shirt off like a second skin, letting the wind blow the stink off of him. They were almost to the lake, breathing like bulls, making the dry earth into spectral dust devils of propulsion behind them. Just as Zechs moved back into the lead, he felt the damp twisted cloth of Treize's shirt smack him on the side of his face. His gate faltered and he fell forward onto his knees, palms flat against the damp bank. A half second later he heard the crash of water as Treize propelled himself into the lazy current of Lake Victoria. Zechs stayed down, his body racked with the effort of breathing. In the water, Treize was dunking his head and laughing through his exhaustion.

"Pretty . . . cheap" Zechs peeled off his metal mask, the hair underneath sticking to the sides of his face. He was flushed and overheated, feeling the heat rise off of him like steam. He pulled himself up and walked two steps forward, then let his body collapse into the water.

"If you've got to win, you've got to win" Treize said, letting his body float and the sun gleam off his chest and arms. Zechs rose out of the water and let the wind whipped savannah air cool his wet body. The lake water was lukewarm, heated by the African sun and teaming with life. Beneath him, Zechs felt turtles crawling and fish nibbling at his toes. He sat up on the bank, conscious of buzzing insects around him and on the look out for the fat snakes that hung around moisture. Treize had his eyes closed and a contented look on his face, now breathing easily, he occasionally lifted his arms to backstroke around the small stretch of water, never getting too far away.

Crouched on the side, Zechs pulled at a dried reed and stuck it in his mouth, tonguing the stem and squinting against the glare of the water. Casually, he lifted his arm to smell and was satisfied that the day's stink had been washed away.

"How long do we have" he asked when Treize pulled himself out of the water and sat next to him.

"Until about dusk I figure. Why? Got an exam tomorrow?"

"Nope, you?"

Treize shook his head "All done with exams. Just a bunch of ceremonies and then graduation on Thursday." He shook out his hair like a dog at his friend and Zechs smacked him away. They both rose to find their discarded jackets.

"Your family is coming down I assume." Zechs picked up the dirty rolled up shirt that had caused him victory. Treize, always big on movement, dashed forward in the grass and did a handstand, letting himself roll forward when he fell. "Yea. All of them, Mother and Father, Grandparents, Uncles, my brat cousin Dorothy. They'll take up half the seats in the audience." He took a cue from his younger companion and snatched a dried grass blade from the savannah floor, tipped back his head and hung it from his lips like a long cigarette. Treize whacked his foot back and forth as he walked, making huge grasshoppers leap high. He clipped them with his hand as they rose from the ground and sent them shooting off in every direction. Zechs merely let his palm graze the bent tops of the high blades, tickling his life lines.

When they had found their jackets, they crushed some grass beneath them and spread out under the high sun, their bunched up jackets tucked under their sweaty necks. They passed some time in silence, watching the occasional cloud morph above them and hearing animals crunching through the grassland

"Wish you didn't have to go." Zechs muttered after a time. Treize swished the grass blade from one side of his mouth to the other, holding it in his teeth and talking through clenched molars.

"Yea, you and me both." He tucked his hands behind his head, stretching them out; Zechs rose up and sat Indian style. He plucked up some grass blades and started knotting them together. His hair was drying and whipped about almost the same color as the weeds around them. Treize cracked an eye open at him.

"You should cut your hair. It's far too long. Will get in your way"

"I manage" Zechs answered stringing together several glossy clippings together.

"So where're you going first when you graduate?" he asked Treize.

"L3. I've got to meet that girl."

"Oh, _that_ girl!" he answered sarcastically. Treize had far too many girls to know which particular one he was indicating now.

"You know, the one my dad arranged for me." Treize sat up and spit the grass out of his mouth. "One I have to marry in September." He sounded disdainful but just looked out into the horizon. Zechs said nothing.

"I'm going to miss fishing." Treize looked back at the lake and watched the currents of sunlight reflecting off in every direction. Zechs nodded, still knotting the grass.

"Me too."

"Why would you miss it? You'll be here for a few more years. You'll have lots of chances to take in the line." Treize lay down again, closing his eyes. His hair was half dry and hanging in his face.

"I don't see myself coming here much now that you are leaving." Zechs held the knotting in his palm, brought it up to eye-level. Treize raised his arms like goal posts and Zechs closed one eye to calibrate his aim. Thumb and forefinger pressed together, tensions opposing, he flicked the knot off his palm and through Treize's sun-bronzed arms.

"Goal!" Treize shouted and let his arms fall lazily on his chest, eyes closing again. "Don't be stupid" he muttered at Zechs, now scanning the grassland casually. "Take one of the girls from your classes."

"I don't have your way with women." Zechs answered shaking his head.

"Never seen you try really. You kinda run away when they talk to you."

"Just not good around them, I guess." He shrugged. "What's this girl like that you have to marry?"

Treize sighed in irritation. "I don't really know. I'll show you a photo of her when we get back to the barracks. She's some important colonist's daughter. My father wants better relations with Outer Space and I guess I'm a good sprocket for his political machine."

"Sucks for you."

"Yea, well. I'll make the most of it. I just wish my entire family wasn't going to invade the base this week. My father wants them all to think that I am the next great leader of the world so they will pull every string and land me a good appointment after I graduate." He got up and kicked the grass and made the grasshoppers fly again, batting them violently. Then he dropped down on his hands and knees to do pushups in the dirt.

"At least you have family to come to your graduation" Zechs said absently flicking more knots. Treize looked up at him from a half-pushup position. He regarded his younger friend for a moment and then sat down facing Zechs' back.

"You mad at me, Zechs?"

"Not a bit" Zechs answered without emotion.

"Well, damn. You will have family at your graduation. I'll be there and I'll bring my mother. You know she adores you."

Zechs shook his head as if to say 'don't bother'. Treize rose up and smacked his friend on the back.

"Course I'll be there. But you know, man, you have to try making some other friends besides me. I can't always be around to look out for you. And you know being my friend will always get you in the wrong way with some people. Might be better for you when I'm gone." Zechs sighed at Treize's words, looking over his shoulder at the chestnut-haired boy. "Better for the fish at least." He muttered.

"Look, Zechs" Treize sat down next to him looking out over the savannah. "Don't think of this at the end. I'll keep in touch! I'll write, every week! You'll see me in September at the wedding because I need a groomsman and I don't want some random cousin standing next to me. Those care packages I get every week will still come, only this time they'll be all for you. Hell, half the things my mother packs in them are for you anyhow. Believe me. You'll do better here without me. You're always talking about being a perfect soldier. Well, without me to get you into trouble, you'll be able to do that. Just promise me you won't get boring. I can handle the good-hearted Zechs Merquise but I couldn't abide a goodie-two-shoes version." Treize smiled and Zechs chuckled. It was true. Zechs was thought less of because of his association with Treize who held the record for most incarcerations in the detention hall and even once in the brig. In fact, Treize had accumulated some much time in detention that he had been able to read the Holy Bible twice. They were always opposite that way. Zechs liked to keep to himself and toe the line while Treize was always putting a foot over it. Zechs like to run and Treize liked to send him in the direction that would get him in the most hot water. Treize picked fights, Zechs ended them. Treize was brilliant but slacked on his studies, becoming bored and restless. Zechs studied for hours on end to pass a test. Treize had girlfriends. Zechs had books. Treize was confident, charismatic and self-composed. Zechs was somewhat insecure and self-conscious. Despite all these differences, they had been close since early childhood.

And yet, Zechs remembered his father the King had not liked Treize. The King was wary toward the young boy and had spent a lot of time tutoring the boy on the tradition of Pacifism. But it seemed that the King always felt Treize was dangerous. Zechs didn't fully trust his memory on this; he was only six when his parents died in the attack that destroyed his kingdom.

"I can't understand how you think you will graduate on Thursday when you keep getting caught OUT of bounds, Mr. Khushrenada." A woman's hard voice came from behind them and the two boys jumped. Instructor Vasqual, silver-haired and lean, stood ten feet away, her uniform impeccable and unbothered by the heat. The boys immediately stood and gathered their wrinkled and dusty apparel. Zechs stuffed his mask on over his eyes and kept them downcast as he passed the head instructor. Treize swaggered by her with a smug grin on his face. He rolled his eyes at Zechs as they walked back toward the gate with Vasqual following behind.

At the entrance to the barracks, Vasqual held Zechs back. Treize waited a moment at the threshold, but a commanding look from the instructor sent him inside alone. Zechs did his best to smooth the wrinkles in his shirt which was missing several buttons before he replaced his sweat-smelling jacket. The instructor was one he had been in class with a few times. She was called "dragon" by most of the students and had been Treize's disciplinarian on most occasions.

"I'm disappointed in you, Zechs. A boy as bright as you should not be attaching yourself to someone like Treize Khushrenada. You are a good boy."

Zechs kept his head down, nervous. "Sorry, Instructor. But . . . Treize and I . . . well, I grew up with him." He said with his eyes downcast. Vasqual's hand went on his arm. She was a small woman but commanding in voice and presence. Zechs glanced over at her knotted hair and the silver clasp that held her green side cape to her shoulder. "All the more reason you should distance yourself from him. You are a very dedicated young man. I've seen your performance steadily improve since you've arrived here. A lot of promise. No one wants to see that promise diminished by people of lesser quality."

He looked the Head Instructor in the eye. She had dark brown eyes, the color of wet bark and her features were a little sharp looking, like a bird. This was not a woman who spoke out of turn or without thinking. Clearly her low opinion of Treize had been long considered.

"Ma'am. You needn't be concerned. Treize graduates this week. He's leaving, you know."

She released his arm and sighed in a troubled way. "Yes, I know. They are letting him out into the world. Releasing him into the wild." She folded her arms.

"Take care, Zechs. Develop sound judgment and use is well, especially where your friend is concerned. I see bad things surrounding that boy" She said glanced at Zechs once more and then left him there by the barracks. Zechs took a moment to think over her words. Then, shaking his head, he went inside.

Treize was lying on his bed with his feet up on the wall, reading a book. He chewed his lip and put a hand under his head. "What did the Dragon say?" he asked when Zechs walked in taking off his soiled clothing and pulling on a white tank.

Zechs shrugged. "She just wanted to talk about my exam schedule." He sat down on his cot and tried not to think about the heat. He turned on his side and reached into the drawer of his nightstand, fingering through slews of paper piled within, he found the crisp but slightly wrinkled photograph at the bottom. It was a picture of his family, taken when he was five. The color was wearing away and the corners were bent. His mother stood behind the King's chair holding his small sister in her arms. Zechs flanked his father's chair on the right, on the left side, Treize stood. It was a portrait taken while Treize was being fostered in the Cinq Kingdom. A year later the city would be destroyed by war and Zechs would be saved from the fires ravaging the palace by Treize's own father. After that, he lived almost like an adopted son in the Khushrenada family. Almost family, almost. He looked over at Treize lost in his book. Almost a brother. Almost, but not quite.

"You promise you'll write every week?" he asked the older boy. Treize put his book down and returned the look with a smile. "On my honor, Milliardo." He got up from the bed and changed into a clean uniform.

"Come on. It's dinner time. Let's head over to Meat Hill." Treize headed out the door walking toward the dinning hall. Zechs stuffed his soiled jacket and shirt in the hamper and donned a fresh jacket. Hearing laughter coming from across the Quad, he followed Treize to the Meat Hall as he followed him in everything.


End file.
